


Dance Down the Faithful

by Aondeug



Category: Chronicles of the Kencyrath - P. C. Hodgell
Genre: F/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 00:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/pseuds/Aondeug
Summary: So much blame is put on the Dream-Weaver for the Fall, but there was a woman behind that. There was a woman with feelings for a man who would use her for his own gain. Who was that woman? What were those feelings? What lays beyond the Lament?





	Dance Down the Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in part by talks I've had with AnheliaAescar about Jamethiel Dream-Weaver. Thank you for those talks and for these books at all, you. They help me through rough times.

He is your whole world  
in a fashion.  
From your earliest days  
he's been there  
by your side  
with a crooked grin  
and a raised fist  
to protect you  
though you don't need it  
because you dance better than he.  
  
He laughs  
and tells you stories  
of great campaigns  
and silly pranks  
that he played on his lords  
all lined up below you both  
and he listens  
to your tales as well.  
About dancers and temples  
and the long talks  
that you have with your God  
which stretch into the mornings  
and fill you to bursting  
threatening to take you  
far, far off  
where none has gone before  
or ever will,  
far past this world  
and thresholds ahead  
and thresholds behind  
and past the chain altogether,  
far and apart  
from all,  
from him,  
from you,  
from all  
which terrifies you  
it does,  
so it makes you smile  
when he sits with you  
and listens to you  
tell tales of your God  
and how you fly too close  
to a darkness you don't know  
but which you do  
better than anything.  
  
He took you too  
just as was custom  
and as you had wanted.  
He took you  
into a bed  
covered in red  
hanging in ribbons  
that you had to part  
to catch a glimpse of him  
before he took you  
then and there  
to be his only one,  
his sister consort  
just like in the stories  
which you tell him  
over and over  
of the time when God will come  
down into his people  
and fight back the dark  
once and for all.  
  
He's scared though.  
You can tell that  
because you know him.  
His little turns of face,  
that quake in his voice,  
the nights when he leaves  
abandoning your bed  
for the cool night air alone.  
You've known him  
since you were born  
and you know him  
better than any other  
so you know  
the fear in him  
and how it creeps  
further in,  
so you tell him tales  
and you dance for him  
and you ask your God  
who provides no answers  
good or ill,  
but you try  
again and again  
because you must,  
you will,  
for him,  
just for him  
so that the nights won't drag  
and won't scare him  
and so you'll hear him  
laughing  
as he takes you  
into his arms  
and tells you again  
how much he loves you  
more than anything else,  
even life.  
  
He can't  
though,  
say that.  
You know that.  
You have known that.  
From the way he looks  
at flowers  
and the way he grabs  
so tightly  
to you,  
to it all.  
From the way he shrinks  
from the dark  
even if it's just night  
and how he hates it  
the color  
grey  
more than anything.  
Vibrancy.  
He loves reds and oranges  
and the rush of war  
and impassioned songs  
tainted by heavy drink.  
He loves tales  
of the world and light  
and the passions within  
as people escape death,  
narrowly but always.  
He loves the dance  
which shakes this world  
and through which courses  
the lifeblood of creation  
poured through in gesture.  
He loves it all  
and can't bear to see it go.  
Not the worlds  
but his view of them.  
Not the flowers  
but his touching them.  
He can't let that go  
and you so you know  
that deep down  
he loves something more  
than even you:  
life.  
  
He comes to you  
in the night  
as you feared he would,  
and knew he would  
and he takes you,  
grasping your hands  
in his own  
as he finds the words  
which you know will come  
before he says them  
because you've prepared  
for this moment  
and for your answer:  
Yes.  
Without hesitation:  
Yes.  
  
He watches you stand up  
and take to the stage  
drawing in a breath  
before you bow  
and prepare your final show  
to this world  
and to your God  
and to the host  
and to him.  
  
He doesn't stop you  
even as you start.  
He doesn't stop you  
even as you cry.  
He doesn't stop you  
even as you sink down.  
He doesn't stop you  
because he can't.  
  
And neither can you  
because he's your whole world.


End file.
